Last night, I was supposed to go with Graham and Craig to a midnight showing of Taxi Driver on one of the original reels of film. The crux of the thing was that it happened at midnight, and even if I’m awake at midnight, I can’t guarantee that I won’t fall asleep at any moment. So because I was tired and am a terrible girlfriend, Graham and Craig went without me and I watched half an episode of Buffy before going to bed.

Buffy is on Netflix Instant now, you guys! Can I just tell you how much I loved that show when I was younger? It was one of the first shows I loved because of the show, and not because some cute boy was in it (okay, there were cute boys in Buffy, but they weren’t really my thing and the show was just so great on its own). The writing was so sharp and funny, and like many people my age, this was my first experience with Joss Whedon, and why I continue to support anything he does in theory, even if I have no pressing interest in actually watching it (ex: Firefly, which has been in my queue for like ever and I can’t say I will ever get around to it). I stopped watching Buffy sometime around when she went to college and started sleeping with a guy who wasn’t Angel. Not because of the guy, but because this is when I was old enough to get a job and I couldn’t be at home to watch TV anymore. I have no memory of Michelle Trachtenberg in the show, and only a season (if that) of Faith.

I cared about Buffy way before DVD sets were at all affordable and Netflix didn’t exist, so I’ve only seen these episodes once, maybe twice as reruns. This is why I was surprised to learn that I remember so much of them. Within maybe a minute of starting episode three, I remembered that Amy’s mom was a witch who switched bodies with her daughter to get on the cheerleading squad. And it’s not only plot lines, but the jokes and phrasing, too. Some of the lines are just burned into my brain, and hearing them again rings this bell in my head, like “oh yeah, that’s where those words have been all this time.”

Graham is allegedly waking up before 1pm to watch the Cardinals game today, so I might take my laptop into the bedroom and finish up season one. Or I might go hang out in the backyard with the new issue of Food and Wine. I DON’T KNOW. I DON’T KNOW IF I’LL HAVE TIME.

At least I did something this weekend. Brennan texted last night (before the falling-asleep-instead-of-Taxi-Driver fuckery) to say he was going to Perennial Brewing, and since I haven’t been yet, I met him and this other guy in a neighborhood that, until a couple of years ago, was nothing but abandoned storefronts and meth labs. The Patch is this tiny little area in waaaaay down South City where nobody ever has a reason to go so almost everybody forgets about it. It’s not as ghetto as some of the area to its immediate north, but aside from one intersection where there’s a restaurant, theater (plays not movies), and maybe one other business aside from this brewery, there’s not much else there. The streets are all crooked and the homes look like centuries-old French cottages, but the yards are still kept up and I haven’t been down there since I worked in a tattoo shop right out of high school (is my South City showing yet?). It’s one of those areas that looks so unlike the rest of the city yet is only minutes from everything else that it could be the version of the city you see in a dream.

Anyway, Perennial is inside an old Coca-Cola bottling plant, and if you go, I recommend the Black Walnut Dunkel (brewed with actual Missouri black walnuts, which are so hard we used to use them as weapons when we were kids) and the Hommel Bier. Also, you can go on a self-guided tour, like they just let you walk around their brewing floor by yourself after saying things like “if the lights are off, just find the switch. It’s over to the right.” I took a few photos of the brewery floor, but none were as great as this:

Heh. Your mom’s a hot liquor tank. Also, here’s beer and Brennan being excited about beer:

This is how I choose to spend my weekends. Watching Buffy, hanging out with dorks, and drinking beer. It’s not so bad.

(Hey, if anyone at Perennial is reading this, could you guys let me start you a Tumblr or something? I guess there’s a reason why you went with Blogger, I just don’t understand what that is and at the very least, you need a better user interface with a custom domain. Sorry. This is how I use the Internet.)